This wordprocessed text is a copy of a hand written book which was complied by my grandfather Travis Hampson at Chirk in North Wales in 1951. This book includes transcribed entries from a notebook diary that TH kept from 4 August 1914 to 4 September 1915. I have used italics here to show the explanatory notes added by TH in 1951, together with his record of the period September 1915 to February 1919, which I suspect was compiled from memory and miscellaneous notes. The 1951 book includes a number of photos, diagrams and original documents which I hope to publish on the web eventually. TPD, Feb 2001. (xenophon@ukonline.co.uk)

The writing of this account of my experiences has come about through the finding of my old pocket diary, which I had carried about with me and in which I had jotted down some of our doings while serving with the BEF from August 6^th 1914 to February 19^th 1919. In the earlier part it is almost from day-to-day and word-for-word what I wrote then.

Mobilisation notices were posted up in all the public places in Birmingham. My instructions as to where I should report were 18 months old and I have received no others since, but it was understood that a wire would be sent with a travelling warrant in confirmation.

During the evening C Johnson and Rollason, both Special Reserve officers rolled up at the hospital, the former to report at Croydon on the 6^th, the latter to be in York within 24 hours. They were both in the same state as myself as regards kit, with many articles to be got. At midnight I went with Johnson to the Garrick Club to see if any news of things in general had come through. No one had anything but rumours. There I met Cox's partner. Cox has resigned his commission just in time; he said it was impossible for him to go having just settled in practice.

I got Greensill, a fifth year student to come in as locum in my job, having seen Dr Short, my chief, a consulting physician on the staff of the GH. He was a bit stuffy, didn't see the need immediately to chuck up his job, but I did, and got busy completing my outfit, as I was expecting a telegram any minute. I spent the rest of the day rushing about in my jigger (Morgan three wheeler), which I kept at the hospital. I managed to get a fair number of things in Birmingham, and then went to Walsall, where father had arrived by car from Vyrnwy. I dare not go home on account of the expected wire to join at once.

The Territorials are all mobilising. Many of them, including Wilfred, are in camp now for their annual training. The Birmingham medicos are completing a general hospital at Bournebrook, for which some of the sisters here are under orders to staff.

I wrote off this morning to OC No 20 FA asking for instructions.

This was a very trying day, what with lack of kit and lack of orders. All but about three of the residents here are sending in their names for one of the services. Hird, a Naval Special Reserve Officer, has had to join up at Chatham without any outfit.

Dr Sawyer, one of the honoraries, turned up to do a round dressed in his TA uniform.

I collected all my books and belongings an left them in charge of HH Sampson, now RSO here, and sitting on the fence until he gets his appointment to the staff of the General Hospital; he promised to see them all stored in the box room.

Out early into the town to try to complete my outfit. On returning midday, I found a telegram waiting for me to join in Aldershot immediately. HHS turned up with a sword for me, which he had found in the town. I was quite worried by the idea of reporting for duty without one.

Left Snow Hill at 2.30 for Aldershot; no trouble getting a ticket on the strength of my telegram. I travelled up with a Major Norrington. A regular ASC bloke, he was not at all thrilled at the prospect of a war, having been in South Africa. He said he thought it was going to be a long job, and that we should be lucky if we came through it alright. He rather depressed me for a bit, as I had been rather looking forward to it.

Detrained at North Camp, and shared a taxi first to ASC mess, and then on to the RAMC Depot, where I signed the arrivals book in the orderly room. I saw Major Davidson and Captain Wright, who were at the Depot when I was there in 1913. Went on to Redan Hill, where No 20 FA is mustering, arriving just as it was getting dark. I found our lines, which were just a collection of bell tents, and looked for the CO, Major Steel, and reported to him. I found I was the first Special Reserve officer to join. Others already there were Major Biggam and Captain Pascoe, both Regulars. Osbourne, the CO's servant found me a couple of blankets, and I slept in an empty tent on the ground. A very uncomfortable night.

Found things not very forward, only about 50 men and some tents so far. Redan Hill is filled with medical units mobilising under canvas. No equipment of any kind has been drawn yet, and of course there is no information as to when we may move off.

I hear we are to be attached to Army Troops and GHQ, presumably to be sent off to any place wanting FA service.

From now to August 17th will be just a short account of how the time was spent before entraining.

It was very interesting gradually drawing the stores and equipment, and then the horses, and seeing the FA fill out into a complete unit. The first few days there was very little doing. I spent some time getting my personal kit together. Things were extremely difficult to come by. I couldn't get a flea bag, so used two blankets. A valise turned up just in time.

Lt JB Williamson SR and Lt Jones joined on the 7^th, and Lt Brown SR on the 8^th. Brown left us very soon, going sick with a septic finger. He got rather chipped on arriving with a second hand tin uniform trunk, with a picture of the Duke of Manchester painted on the top, to whom it had once belonged. These boxes in any case were not taken overseas.

Major Hull, a Regular and a FRCS, who had been posted to us as the specialist surgeon, very wisely waited until almost the last possible day, and had to be urgently sent for, so missing a lot of hard work and bad feeding.

Three civil surgeons, Lts Greaves, Dillon and Aldis were attached to complete the officer strength. The term civil surgeon was soon dropped; it was a relic of South Africa, and these people were just temporary commissions. At the beginning of the war they signed on for one year.

I was given charge of the bearer sub-division of A Section, but with Brown going sick, I had to take on C Section. Lt Aldis, who knew nothing except French, was put into A Section, A Section bearers being not so likely to be detached from the unit. I think the CO thought he might as well have an interpreter with the HQ of the FA. It was generally believed that France was our destination.

About 50 Welsh terriers (RAMC Territorial bearers) joined under Sgt Barnfield, arriving from the camp at Aberystwyth where Wilfred was with the RWFs. This camp was broken up on the 5^th, and the men turned up without any equipment, and mostly without greatcoats.

There were not enough trained RAMC personnel to make up the necessary numbers of bearers in all the FA's, so each had a certain number of infantry reservists who had volunteered for the job on mobilisation. They got a grant of money and some training in First Aid and stretcher bearing, and so were ready when wanted. Naturally they were not the pick of the infantry regiments, as they would not have been let go. Ours seem a pretty tough lot.

Our CO acted as Camp Commandant, and Capt Pascoe as Sanitary Officer. I went round with him a bit as his assistant.

The usual camp routine was Reveille 5.30am, then a route march before breakfast at 7.30 am. After that, some drill, demonstrations, and lectures to the men on First Aid, sanitation and general subjects. Then perhaps another route march to get the feet hardened; afterwards foot inspection, corn cutting and boot fitting. These were very important items. Dinner at 1pm, and afterwards odd jobs, and more or less off-duty.

After a few days the horses arrived with their ASC personnel. I chose my rider, a well made nice looking nag of about 15.2, strong, and in good condition. After this I had a ride every afternoon with the CO to Long Valley, or somewhere to call on people he knew round about. My nag very fresh, on the jog all the time, very difficult to make him walk. I hope it will wear off later; he is very fast, but can't jump. Except for the CO, the other officers seem rather to dislike the sight of their horses, and several of them I think have never been on a horse before.

The riders on the whole seem to be rather on the small side, in any case, the average MO doesn't want, and certainly won't get, a cavalry officer's charger. But we have some very fine requisitioned hunters getting to some of the FAs.

The draught horses, also the riders, are all civilians, and quite new to Army life. The heavies are a magnificent lot; they are the pick of the brewer's drays and such like horse drawn civilian transport. The light draught also appear to be first rate. I believe the Government has a scheme to subsidise owners in exchange for the liability to requisition the horses when wanted.

On drawing the ambulances and other vehicles there was a lot of work to be done checking every item and all the stores and to get to know exactly where any particular thing should be and was carried. Quite a job was pairing the draught horses and fitting the harness, all of which was delivered in its parts with nothing put together, and when assembled, each bit had to be fitted to the individual horse.

We rigged up a tarpaulin between two buses to mess in, it was better than eating it off the ground as we had been doing before. We drew Army rations from the first day with no extras, and they were very badly cooked, made in a dixie, generally smoked and you just dipped your enamelled pint mug into it when you wanted any. We had no extras, which most of the units round about seemed to go in for. We did not even have butter and bread from the town at first, just the ration biscuits. Perhaps the CO wants to harden us up for what is to come, but my impression is that the regular officers in this unit are too damned mean to spend anything, and until Major Hull joined, we didn't even have beer sent over from the canteen. No RAMC officers except those stationed permanently in Aldershot were allowed to use the RAMC Depot mess. I got an occasional decent meal in the town, but it was mostly what became known as 'mucking in'.

Identity discs worn round the neck, first field dressing to be sewn inside the point of the jacket in front, and our iron rations were next issued. The iron ration consists of a three quarter pound tin of bully beef, four biscuits equalling a pound of bread, two cubes of Oxo and a grocery ration of tea and sugar, the whole in an American cloth case. These iron rations were to be carried by everyone, and were not to be used except in an emergency on orders from a very senior officer. It was supposed to be food for 24 hours. Both the bully and the biscuits are very good.

Padre Gibb (Capt) joined two days before we left. He brought his own horse, and man who rode a bicycle with a tradesman's carrier in front of it. The Padre had been throughout the South African War as a trooper in a cavalry regiment. He was given charge of the Mess; some pounds of butter and bread appeared at once. My teeth were getting a bit sore from the hard biscuits.

When the FA was complete, the whole unit had some treks across the country, distances up to 15 miles. Everything went off very well, except my horse got a small saddle sore, and I couldn't ride him for a few days. His action keeps the same unfortunately, and I think this was responsible for it. There is very little opportunity for trying to get him out of it.

The weather during this time kept gloriously fine; the only trouble was the dust. I happened to say to one of our senior NCO's one day how lucky we were that the show was happening at this time of the year, but he rather morosely replied that it wasn't long to the Winter. He had been in South Africa, and had no illusions about the pleasurable anticipations of everything being anything but myths. His attitude rather brought me up with a jolt. Come to think of it, rather like the ASC officer I travelled to Aldershot with.

All the officers and most of the men had anti-typhoid inoculations at the Cambridge hospital. This was not compulsory; it knocked some of them out rather badly. I was a bit feverish and seedy for about 24 hours and had a very sore arm.

Redan Hill is not far from the station and sidings. We could see and hear troops entraining throughout the night, every night. Nobody knows where they are going, but there is a general idea that we shall fetch up somewhere in the region of Charleroi.

The RAMC Depot is crowded with about 3000 RA and St John's men. I saw an enormous parade of them in the square, some in civilian clothes, most in the uniform of their order. Presumably they are to act as reinforcement for us and to staff other medical units such as hospitals.

Lts Miller and Darcy, with whom I trained in 1913, are also on Redan Hill. The time passed very quickly, and altogether was quite enjoyable and full of variety, but there was no time and one was not encouraged to move very far from the camp.

We flew our flags, a Red Cross and a Union Jack, on the flagpole which is part of our equipment by day, and the lamps at night, but we were the only unit I saw on Redan Hill to do this.

Various handbooks of the organisation and equipment of foreign armies were dished out to us, and pictures of the uniforms of Germans, French and Belgians.

Our men seemed a fairly decent lot, but kicked up rather a row late at night and in the early morning. One lot had 'The early birds' chalked on their tent and woke up about 3am. The ones next door wouldn't settle down until about midnight, in spite of the orderly officer and picket's warnings, so we had to have some of them up for it. After that things were a bit better. Everyone was I think so excited and so keen not to be left behind that their spirits were a bit too high.

When complete we had to put 14 men into most of the bell tents for a few nights. This is more than a bit overcrowded, and accounted for much of the scuffling and bad language at nights. There was also the usual doleful singing by the Welsh contingent, with also a good deal of 'One man and his dog going to mow a meadow' going on to hundreds of men and dogs.

The entraining already mentioned began soon after I got to Aldershot. Later the medical units started: one would wake up in the morning and find another empty tented area in the camp. We were told we should be amongst the last to leave as we were attached to GHQ.

On August 17th we were told we should leave on the night of August 19th, so on the 18th the final packing of wagons and mobilisation of kit had to be complete. My valise must have weighed quite a bit over the 35 pounds, although the same as everyone else's. I had managed to get all the necessary things; many of them I could have got much better if I had known how long we were going to be in the camp, such as breeches ordered in a hurry as a second pair came fitting so tightly at the knee I had to get them altered in the town in a few hours, and they made an awful mess of the job.

The officers who started with No 20 FA were -

Major Steel (CO) Regular

Major Biggam - ditto -

Major Hull - ditto -

Capt Pascoe - ditto -

Lt Williamson Special Reserve

Lt Hampson - ditto -

Lt Dillon Temporary commission, one years contract

Lt Greaves - ditto -

Lt Aldis - ditto -

Lt & QM Regular ex-ranker

For the train journey the FA was split up into two parts. The first party marched to the station at midnight. The second, which I was with, went at 1.30am.

With end-to-end loading, that is, a vehicle is pushed onto the end of a truck from a platform, and then shoved along the whole length of the train of trucks to the end one and so-on, everything was loaded in 30 minutes, and we were complimented by the RTO. There was a little trouble with some of the horses. Many of them are huge beasts, and could hardly hold their heads up in the cattle trucks. Entraining instructions stated - ' if there is any trouble in getting a horse in, two drivers should lock arms above his hocks and hustle him in'. Our ASC drivers are all very small, though tough, and it struck us as rather amusing to see two small men trying to hustle an enormous draught horse that had other ideas on the subject. But by getting a willing one in first, there was not too much difficulty.

The train left Aldershot at 2.30am. We didn't know where we were going, but thought it would be Southampton, though there was some talk of Bristol. I slept a bit, on and off, in the train, and came to life about 10 miles from Southampton, a district new to me but recognised by others in the carriage. This proved to be our port of embarkation. The train ran alongside a quay, and was unloaded onto a wharf..

No 19 FA had come into the same quay, and had arrived just before our first half. It turned out they were going on the same ship, the 'Karnak', a tramp of about 3000 tons or so which was lying alongside.

We had to wait while No. 19 embarked. I was fairly hungry and thirsty by this time, but managed to get some coffee and a bun on the quay, and then bought a paper and sat out on the end of the wharf watching the shipping until it came to our turn to load. When that came, I chucked my Christmas tree in the corner of a cabin, of which there were only six, alongside a small saloon under the bridge. The 'Robilla', an Indian trooper, was lying on the opposite side being converted into a hospital ship. Further down were several liners with sailors at work on them, mounting guns for them to become armed merchantmen or cruisers. There were also several steam yachts with big red crosses painted on their sides. I bought some postcards from a boy scout, of whom there were quite a lot about, running errands and as messenger boys. He said he would post them for me, but I expected them to be stopped at the Post Office.

Loading the ship was a slow job. She was light and high above the quay, the tide being in. There were two electric cranes going. The vehicles were slung up by their hubs, and the horses with a sling under their bellies. The riders were slung up in a box. The heavies looked rather funny high up in the air. They looked a bit scared, which no doubt they were, and you had to stand clear when they landed, because as soon as their feet touched down nearly all of them tried to jump off the floor. The crane drivers were very good at landing them down quietly. No doubt they had been at it for 10 days or so already. The accommodation below decks was very good; they had a stall each, but the atmosphere soon became very thick. The hatches were left wide open: what it would have been like battened down I can't imagine. Everything was located without accident, and we sailed about 6pm. I think it might have been a bit later; with a good deal of 'Tipperary' and 'Are we downhearted?' from the men. The captain is sailing under sealed orders not to be opened until we have dropped the pilot. The trip down Southampton water was very interesting; dozens of transports and a fair number of naval vessels were lying at anchor. It was said that there was a line of small naval vessels guarding the route right across to the coast of France, within sight of each other. At any rate, we were always within a fairly short distance of one as far as I could see. When it got dark, no lights were shown on the ship.

After dropping the pilot off the Isle of Wight, we heard we were going to Rouen, so we should have all night and most of next day on board. I was orderly MO, and had to be up until midnight, but I didn't have anything to do, medical or otherwise, and there was no trouble amongst the horses. Luckily it was a dead flat calm. Some lights said to be those of Havre were in sight when I went off duty. I then slept intermittently on deck in my greatcoat. After a longer doze, when I awoke it was daylight; we had passed Havre, and were just entering the mouth of the Seine. The river was like a very wide canal, muddy, and with the tide against. It was a most interesting trip up the river, rather slow going, but a glorious fine morning. We were only one of a continuous line of transports, there were also many returning empty down river. The civilians had turned out at all the towns and villages, waving flags, letting off toy cannon and yelling 'Vive la France', 'Vive l'Angleterre', 'Vive l'Armee', 'Vive l'Entente Cordiale' and 'Vive la Patrie'. The ship's company retaliated with the same, or other shouts, and the usual songs were sung by the men. All this went on continuously, and they must have felt hoarse by the time we got to Rouen. Some of the scenery was very fine, in places cliffs coming down to the river bank. There seemed to be a town or village every two or three miles.

We had to wait several hours outside Rouen for some reason, while a lot of transports went by with much chaffing and asking whether we were downhearted. Eventually we got alongside the quay; it was said to be too late to unload that night.

The large quays were a mass of stores and equipment, with a few French soldiers about in their brilliant uniforms.

Five of us went into the town and had dinner at the Hotel de la Poste, a fine up to date place, with by far the best dinner I had had since mobilising. It appears to be fine city. The streets are all pavé, and the noise, dust and heat are tremendous. All the kids worry you for souvenirs; most of them have a British cap badge or shoulder plate stuck on their caps in spite of strict orders to the troops not to give them away. I called at a saddlers to have some repairs done to leggings. Back to the ship early. The men were not allowed off, so they were lining the quay side of the ship entertaining a large crowd of civilians with a concert. We are to begin unloading at daybreak. I wrote some postcards home and strolled about. We have no news of where we are to be sent; the CO has seen the authorities, but won't tell us anything. There are some of our naval officers about, but no warships to be seen up here. Late tonight I managed to get a berth, but of course didn't do much undressing.

We began unloading at 5am, a delay and much trouble. The cranes on our quay didn't seem strong enough to lift our loaded GS wagons. There were nothing like the ones at Southampton, and it was a much slower business than loading. The wagons were manhandled about 100 yards away from the ship. During these proceedings I had a couple of short walks into the town. Everyone seems very pleased to see us, except the stevedores, who were on the point of striking after nearly a fortnights work, continuously on the job.

No 19 FA got orders and moved off first, having sorted out the two lots of horses and transport.

We have to go up to the rest camp, 2 to 3 miles out of the town. Lt Aldis was sent off to find the way while the unloading was going on. After a very scrappy lunch of bully and biscuits and poisonous tea in the saloon, we moved off at about 4.30pm. Nothing of importance had been smashed on the journey. The route was through the town and up 2 to 3 miles of a fairly steep gradient, which had to be done without a halt, and tried the horses rather. On the way up we were presented with flowers and apples at almost every house. Had a water cart overturned by the driver, who was trying to pick apples off a tree overhanging the road, and ran it up the bank. No damage was done to it.

The rest camp is in some big fields on the top of the hills above the town. There seemed to be about 1000 bell tents. Here we found No 19 FA, who had been up some hours ahead of us, and also various other units.

Here there seemed to be a lack of orders for us. Anyhow, we expected to have a night's rest. The horses were unharnessed, and we seized the tents allotted to us, and had our valises brought over from the baggage wagon. I managed to get a shave and a good wash. It had been a hot dusty day without any sitting down.

By this time it was dark. There was what appeared to be hopeless confusion in the camp, and it was almost impossible to find anyone or our tents once you had moved away from them in the pitch darkness. This it was necessary to do, as our transport, men and horses were in a different part of the field.

The cooks got to work as soon as we got to the field, but for some reason we had to wait about two hours for our meal. By this time we were pretty empty. There had been an issue of fresh meat. The steak we had was the toughest bit of meat I have ever tried to eat, and to wash it down, a dixie of black tea. When we were just thinking of turning in for the night, orders came to march down the hill again and entrain for some place unknown.

The Unit had to be collected and got on the move at once. It was still a pitch dark night, and a bit misty, but we managed to leave on time and without leaving anybody behind. To begin with I footslogged with the men, until we came to a bad hairpin on the hill, which was quite tricky enough by daylight, and saw the transport safely round. It was a job to prevent the drivers cutting the corner. I don't think any heavy transport had been sent up to the camp except the FAs.

It was about a four mile march to the station. We arrived outside the gates about midnight, but were not allowed in. Everything was late on account of the fog. The men were very tired, as indeed everyone was, including the horses. The men just sat down anywhere on the road. We sat on the kerbstone and nibbled biscuits. Lt Dillon had some brandy, which went down very well. After one and a half hours we marched into the station, and again waited about, the men trying to wander off and find somewhere to lie down. They had to be just kept together on the open platform. B and C sections of No 19 FA marched into the station and on to the opposite platform. Their train came in almost immediately, and as they had a raised platform to load from, which we hadn't, were off in good time. Neither they nor we knew where they were going.

Then our train came in. C Section officers Hull, Dillon and self bagged our carriage and then began the loading, a most awful job. Every vehicle had to be man handled up wooden ramps from the level of the rails up onto the trucks. With everyone working hard it took two and a half hours, although it was daylight nearly all the time. The GS wagons with their quarter lock were the chief trouble.

I had a splash under a pump on the platform, and then we took our corners in the carriage at 6am. We were soon on the move, and slept a bit until 8.30am, when we made some tea with a spirit stove and had some bully and biscuits. The officers' messing arrangements were rotten. There was no reason why we should not have laid in some civilian stores, such as tinned stuff or sardines, before leaving Aldershot, but no-one would back me up in the matter. We slept a bit, on and off, and watched the country until about 2pm, when we had some more grub and felt very dirty. We had no map, and I couldn't discover from the names of the stations where we were going. If we had passed through any town, it must have been while I was asleep. From the time taken on the journey, it must have been a very round about country trip.

About this time while we were crawling along at about 20 miles per hour, a horse tumbled out of one of the vans (Hommes 40, Cheveaux en long 8) onto the permanent way. It didn't seem to hurt him; he got up and began to graze immediately at the side of the track. I was looking out the window at the time and saw it happen. Of course we didn't stop for him. The whole journey was done very slowly: never more than 25 miles per hour. There was plenty of time for the civilians gathered at the level crossings to shout for souvenirs and biscuits. From the number of badges we could see on them, a good many of our troops had travelled on this line. We didn't stop in a station, and nowhere else for more than a few minutes until we reached our destination, which turned out to be Le Cateau, a town about 20 to 30 miles from the Belgian frontier.

We did not see anything at all remarkable on the journey, perhaps because a lot of it was passed dosing uneasily. The country was very like parts of our own, except for the lines of tall trees on the roads, and enormous fields of roots, probably beet. Everyone turned out to wave flags, shout the usual things, throw us green apples, and want souvenirs. Most of our men had got rid of their badges by the time we got to Le Cateau.

Unloading at the station again had to be done on ramps, and our loaded GS wagons and horses took a bit of stopping on the incline. It was not such a lengthy business as loading, and in about an hour we were formed up and ready to move off.

A French interpreter met us and told us we were not expected, and no billets were ready for us. The town was about a mile from the station. Soon after we got out of the yard Hull nearly went into a blind ditch about six feet deep. He managed to slide off, but the horse went into it. It sustained no damage. About half a mile from the station we were overtaken by about 40 motor lorries and smothered with dust. On arriving in the town we were halted in the main street while a billeting party searched around. Eventually, after about two hours waiting, the men were put into an empty school building, and the horses had to be picketed on lines between wagons standing in the street.

From the mayor the officers got billets delogement for private houses .

Dillon was the only one to take advantage of this; the rest of us scuttled into a house from which the owners had departed. It was close to our transport, at the corner of two streets, and had quite a big walled garden with a conservatory at the back. There was a housekeeper and a man in charge, so our servants had a range and could cook for us when required.

After seeing to the men and transport, three of us walked into the town to the best cafe we could find for dinner. It was quite a small place, and very crowded. A lot of GHQ officers were dining there. We got a good meal, and the white wine wasn't bad either, but it took about one and a half hours.

There was a complete absence of news, at least we couldn't get hold of any, but much rushing about in motor cars by the staff and motor bike dispatch riders. These were mostly recruited into the RE's at the outbreak of war from the sporting type of youth who owned a motor bike, and was enlisted with his bike for this kind of duty, being given a stripe, a uniform and a revolver. Trains of motor lorries loaded with grub and ammunition kept going through the town.

The only troops in the town are the First Battalion Cameron Highlanders acting as GHQ guard, and the North Irish Horse, a Yeomanry regiment, with other oddments, RE's, ASC and ourselves. The other army troops were supposed to have been sent further forward.

I turned in early under a tree on the grass in the garden for the first night's rest since leaving Aldershot. It had been four days and nights with nothing but snatches of sleep and no decent meal until tonight, except at Hotel de la Poste in Rouen.

Our maps have been dished out to us today. We each have about twenty to hump about with our kit. Now at any rate we could see the lie of the land.

After about ten hours sleep, I felt much better this morning. Had some breakfast in an estaminet opposite our billet, an afterwards just messed about with the men and horses. The CO went to see the DMS (Director of Medical Services), who told him we had to stay where we were in the meantime. I walked into town and tried to pick up some news. No luck; don't know what is happening. GHQ is in the same place, so I suppose we shall not move until they do.

We had no idea how far away the front was but thought we heard some gunfire to the north a good way off. The Padre held a short service in the school and read General French's letter to the troops, mostly about the fact that we were serving in a friendly allied country and not to make free with the ox as the ass, etc, or appropriate anything not belonging to us, and generally to behave ourselves.

After lunch I had my watch mended and saw a sick horse, one of ours with pneumonia. Many of the horses have abrasions from the boat and train journey, but all except the one mentioned are quite fit otherwise.

A few sick rolled up from amongst the troops in the town. Hull was sent off somewhere to see a sick officer, who died from intestinal obstruction before anything could be done. He later trephined another who had been shot through the head and sent down the line in a motor lorry. He brought back no news except that there had been heavy fighting to the north, but no details as to where, casualties, or which way it had gone. Staff officers driving about seem pleased enough. I slept in the afternoon and had dinner again at the same cafe.

At 10am the DG Surgeon General O'Donnell drove up to our billet in a great stew with a telegram that said that there were 300 of our wounded who had been sent into Landrecies, a town near the frontier about 12 to 14 miles away. He wanted to send someone out there to see what would have to be done, so Hull, Dillon, Aldis and myself packed into his car, an open Vauxhall. This car was driven by its owner, who had offered himself and his car and had come out to drive staff officers about. (He later wrote a book of his experiences and in it mentioned this incident.)

The DG did not come. We took some surgical haversacks and a monkey box, which is a case containing a fair variety of dressings and instruments which can be carried by a shoulder strap. How it came to be called this I don't know, unless it looked like a portable organ grinders organ which the monkey sat on top of. How these arrangements were going to cope with 300 wounded is a bit of a mystery. However, we started off for the place with orders to send all particulars back by the car. On the way we saw a lot of French territorials building barricades on the road, leaving just enough room for a vehicle to get through. We were challenged several times.

On arriving at Landrecies we could hear gunfire quite distinctly. In the town there were two hospitals, one the ordinary civilian one, and the other improvised in a school. Altogether there were about 60 of our sick and wounded. The sick had been left there on the way up, and the wounded had been sent down by motor lorry from round about Mons. They were mostly RFA casualties.

From a slightly wounded officer I had a description of the happenings. He said several batteries had been wiped out. It seems our people had no idea the Germans were so close and took up their positions during the night. The Germans lay quiet, and then early in the morning, knowing where our batteries were and having got the range they opened on them with a terrific burst of shrapnel and later HE. Our guns, being uncovered, were simply at their mercy, and took an awful knock. This officer says he thinks his guns were lost for certain, as they could not get them out of action, their horses nearly all being killed. He seemed to think the same thing was happening in other parts of our line. He was perfectly astounded by the way an aeroplane was spotting and range finding for the German gunners. He knew nothing about the infantry except that things were not good.

We found that all the wounded had been dressed by the civilian French doctors and nurses and there was very little for us to do medically. We sent details back to HQ and waited instructions. We had some lunch in a small hotel in the town; it is not so large a place as Le Cateau.

About 3.30pm a message came by despatch rider with orders to get all the wounded to a train which was expected at the station. This improvised hospital train would leave at 5.30pm at the latest. We were not sorry to get the order, as we were wondering what was going to happen. There had been a rumour by a lorry driver that a retirement was in progress.

We had no bearers, and so had to get our coats off and carry the stretcher cases down several flights of stairs. We then put them on some wagons we had commandeered for the job and took them to the station about half a mile away. This was a longish job and a devilish hot one. The doctors and nurses were awfully cut up about our taking them away, and said we should kill several of them, at which I don't wonder. Amongst then there was a very bad pneumonia and another two days convalescent from an acute appendectomy, several with very bad wounds, and one officer who was completely delirious. However, we got them all out of the place and onto the train just in time, before it started without warning. I think the engine driver wasn't for wasting any time in getting a bit further south.

We travelled down with them as far as Le Cateau, where with great difficulty we had got them to stop the train. Otherwise it would have meant a twelve mile tramp back, and quite likely being potted at by the French sentries. Aldis was left on the train to take the wounded on and hand them over at some place I never heard the name of.

Before we left Landrecies we tried to reassure the civilians that les Allemands would not come there, but it was doubtful if they believed it. I didn't feel at all sure about it myself after such information as we had been able to come by, and wasn't sorry to be out of the place.

Early this morning we had orders to move at once south to St Quentin, in fact a forced march of about 25 miles. The starting point for the column was at the station. Major Howard ASC was in charge of the column, which should have consisted of the North Irish Horse, two companies ASC and ourselves. The Camerons passed us later travelling by railway train.

After waiting about an hour for the OC column, our CO thought we might as well be getting on by ourselves, as he had been told where to go. So we did.

To the North there was a continuous rumble of guns, but we could not tell how far away. On the way we saw a lot of bullocks harnessed to wagons and working in the fields. They are shod, and wear a wooden arrangement on their heads on which the pole rests and by which they pull. I rendered first aid to a motor cyclist despatch rider. I was riding about 100 yards behind the column when he came by at a good pace. A dog ran in front of him and he came an awful cropper. He didn't break anything except some fittings on the cycle. We hammered it straight and he went on all right. It was a Triumph motor bike. Then I caught up with the column again, and marched and rode alternately.

After about two hours we met two brigades (or it might have been three) of RFA field guns going north. The dust was awful.

The dust got worse as the day got hotter, especially when motor lorries went by, which they did at various times. Ammunition columns went by also, but these were going south. Some appeared to be fully loaded.

Ten minutes in the hour was the halt allowed, and men could fall out on the side of the road. By the time we got half way the men were beginning to feel it. There was a lot of pavé, and our buses were getting loaded up with the sore footed ones.

If we hadn't had such a good breaking in at Aldershot, I don't think many of them would have stood up so well. These pavé roads are dreadful for marching on, especially the old ones which have got really uneven and have probably been laid since before the Napoleonic Wars. The tall trees lining the road gave a fair amount of shade. As we got further from Le Cateau the sound of the guns got fainter.

When we got about 5 kilometres from the town a billeting party was sent on ahead to fix things up for us. They met us on arrival and there was not much waiting about. It was a fair sized town with a fine park and avenues of trees. Under these the wagons were drawn up, and the horses picketed to lines stretched between them. Those near enough soon began to gnaw the bark off them. The men were put in a large empty school, and ourselves in a ladies' college. Needless to say there were no young ladies about. Nearly all the bigger houses were shut up, in fact the town was almost empty. Ours was not a bad building. There were dormitories with beds and mattresses. Nothing else, of course, and the beds were very short. No one was in occupation except the caretakers.

On the way here we saw on the railway some train loads of English and French wounded, and also some French Cavalry with their tin hats. I didn't think much of them - they didn't look good horsemen, and their mounts were poor light beasts.

During the halts the villagers were very good in giving drinks of beer, wine and cider to everyone, and also apples and cigarettes. They also ran out with these while we were on the move, and it was a job at times to keep the men in the ranks and also to keep them from drinking any sort of water they could come by.

We saw our first German plane today. He came down quite low and had a good look at about the time the guns were going by us.

The recognised distance for heavy draught animals to cover in a day is 14 miles, so our hairies had done pretty well today.

After having some grub and a cold splash in a sink (there was no bathroom in the place) we strolled into the town, but could pick up no news. The padre did not march with us, and turned up later with some rumours.

There seems to be no doubt that a retreat is going on which is said to be strategic, although we are not very happy about it anyhow.

Had an excellent night - raining hard this morning. After breakfast went round the men's billet with a headmistress sort of person. Afterwards censored letters and wrote home. I had also posted letters at Le Cateau, and hope they get home.

The CO went to HQ but told us nothing when he returned, so I just messed about and spent a lot of time with the horses. Some of them had been galled, so I arranged different harness by swapping about and using what breast collars we had to best advantage.

Lunch at 1pm. Halfway through it a staff officer drove up to our billets with orders for us to clear off immediately to Noyon with all possible speed. HQ had been gone about four hours, and they had forgotten all about us. There were no obvious signs of any need for haste: no close firing, no transport or wounded or stragglers falling back through the town. Not that we wasted any time in pushing off as they might have by passed the town. It took the best part of an hour before we were on the road. Not very good, but we were not very used to it yet and are still very regimental, almost doing things by numbers.

A very trying march of about 25 miles. It rained most of the time and soon got dark. Here we began to get amongst other units trekking back and the road was very congested with transport of all kinds. My nag had a sore back, and I had to footslog most of it.

When we got to what the CO thought was about 3 kilometres from Noyon, I was sent in on a borrowed horse with the Sergeant Major (also mounted in a FA) to arrange about billets. We went on and on what seemed about 10 kilometres, and thought we must have lost our way. It was pitch dark and raining. Just then we came upon a reserve park of rations or ammunition. I don't know which, but it was miles of horse drawn GS wagons and an awful job getting by them in a narrow road with most of their drivers asleep. I found they were going to the same place. I think there must have been a good many splintered tail boards that night; the horses were just following the wagon in front, and if there was a check the pole of the following wagon was into the tailboard of the next before the horses could pull up.

We got by them eventually and soon afterwards were challenged by a French sentry who told me we had arrived at Noyon, which I had almost given up hope of seeing that night. Another 200 yards brought us to the French cavalry barracks, which are just outside the town. There I met someone in a car who had been waiting three hours for us to turn up. He had orders for us to billet in the cavalry barracks, and immediately departed. I went into the place, leaving the Sergeant Major on the road. We had taken such a long time getting there since leaving the FA that I thought they may be up any time. After leaving my Christmas tree in the Guardroom, I had a look round.

The French soldiers were very interested in my clothes and kit, and looked at and handled everything I was carrying with remarks I couldn't understand, but apparently friendly. I think I was the first member of the BEF they had seen close enough to talk to. I found the stables and a place for the vehicles and then went into the road to wait for them. The head of the reserve park was halted just outside the gates waiting for instructions: it was still raining hard. I exchanged views with a blasphemous ASC major in charge of it and also their medical officer, who wasn't too pleased with life.

After about an hour, at 2am, the FA turned up. They had just about had enough of it. The men were very footsore and the buses were loaded up with them. Marching on wet greasy pavé is worse than when it is dry. We got everything under cover at last, and at about 3.30am I turned in on a stretcher in a bus without taking anything off. I had had nothing to eat all day except the interrupted lunch at St Quentin and a small piece of cheese and biscuit. My store of chocolate, never very big, was long since finished. We could have done differently if the CO had liked to have a decent halt, and this could have been done quite easily, as we were on our own, and not marching with a column.

GHQ were in town. They all travel by cars and motor lorries with their bodyguard of Cameron Highlanders travelling by train. We had seen nothing of the North Irish Horse or ASC boys today. I think they left St Quentin a long time before us. I found we left the FA at least 6 kilometres before we need have done to come on billeting. There are rumours that Le Cateau has fallen, so we are really retreating if that is true.

Disturbed early. Had a good breakfast and then a look around the cavalry barracks. Very fine stabling but very badly kept. There was a fine cinder track in the centre with jumps.

There are perhaps 500 French here, not more, and they are infantry; you have to watch your belongings, as they will take anything and say it's a souvenir. The whole place is disgustingly dirty, and the flies simply awful. I have never seen anything like them - it's necessary to blow them off your food before you put it in your mouth. The reason, of course, is that the French have made no attempt to remove the heaps of horse manure for weeks, and this is the perfect breeding ground for them.

The town is only a short distance below us. We had several strolls down after news, but there is nothing reliable. It is rumoured that one of our divisions has been badly cut up and lost all its guns. Hope it isn't true.

This morning we opened an Aid Post on the station to attend to any wounded going through who needed it. This was in charge of Greaves and Aldis. They had a certain amount of work, but not very much. There was very little moving; I suppose any trains could only go a short distance north by this time. There were no proper ambulance trains, just ordinary trucks improvised to take stretchers and some of the usual vans with straw on the floor. Hull and I went down to have a look at them. It was thought that by then the last train from the north had gone through..

Hall and I went on onto town to GHQ. No news. Bought a French newspaper but it said nothing of importance that we could make out. Anyhow, our French was not very strong. GHQ seemed to be very active, but no one would spill anything to us. There were a good many civilians going through the town with cars loaded to more than capacity. Some of the folks on bicycles also, so they evidently think the Germans are coming this way. We expect to move again today, but have no idea where. Some German aeroplanes over again today. There are quite a few motor lorries dashing about, some carrying wounded.

A most anxious day, I think we are getting it in the neck. I spent another night in the bus. We have seen nothing of the fighting line yet except the wounded, and really not very many of these. It was flies, dirt, heat, dust and bad food with no decent washing.

Still retreating, today we have to go to Compiègne.

The news this morning is that the French have let us down by not standing and not coming into action on the right flank as promised.

The II Corps 1st and 2nd Divisions is said to be badly decimated and is following us to reconstruct. A tremendous fight was put up at Le Cateau against odds of about 8 to1 in men and 10 to 1 in guns. It is also said that the Germans have had tremendous losses by advancing in close formation against our rapid rifle fire. Rearguard actions have been going on for four days. A few stragglers have come into Noyon and the fighting is said to be 10 to 12 miles to the north of us.

The march to Compiègne was much the same as the other two treks. I saw the transport off and then had to wait in the town for a man leading a sick horse. The horse kept lying down and was only got up again with great difficulty. I think it was colic. I had nothing to give it, and there was no vet to be had of course, and I was a bit uncertain what to do. I wouldn't have him ill-treated, and didn't like to shoot him. After getting him along about a mile I found a stable attached to some works, and put him in there. There was only an old Frenchman in charge, who wasn't a bit pleased, especially as I made the ASC driver make him up a good bed with the straw belonging to the place. This was the best I could do, so we just left him.

Our column must have been two to three miles ahead by this time. I didn't know which road had been allotted to us for the march and couldn't go fast on account of the unmounted ASC driver marching on his flat feet. Luckily the road was lined with transport and various units and was quite straight once we were out of the town, so we got on all right and caught them up just as they were crossing a very frail suspension bridge over a small river. This had to be done very slowly, one vehicle at a time.

The first over did not wait, so the whole FA got spread out over about a mile of road, and it took about an hour before we were in proper formation again. It appears everyone is in a hurry, although the Germans must be a long way behind us. We had heard guns again this morning, a bit nearer than before.

I was the last up. There so often seemed to be something to do about the transport in some way or other. I believe in most FA's one of the MO's in addition to his other duties acts transport officer. Although not detailed by the CO to do this, the duty seems to have fallen to my lot, not that I mind, I rather like it. I don't think any of the others care a cuss about the horses. At any rate they take no interest, and I have yet to see one of them easing his horse by dismounting and marching for a spell. Several times already I have given a ride to someone out of the ranks, who was done in, on my mount.

At one place where we halted to water the horses I spoke to an old couple sitting outside their cottage who had seen the Prussians marching through in 1870. They looked like seeing them again from what I could see and hear of the business.

I had to give up riding my nag later in the day and footslog. It was devilish hot too. A small saddle gall had broken down again in spite of any adjustment the saddler could make or different foldings of the saddle blanket. I think it was really due to his bad habit mentioned earlier of being constantly on the jog. He would not walk march even at the end of our long treks, so it was no use trying to tire him out of it.

On arrival here we found we were to be stationed a little to the north of the town in a kind of sports ground about the size of a soccer field or a bit bigger. There was a small grandstand on one side, and on the other about 15 large hangars covered with tarpaulin, each of which could take 200 men easily. We were told they had been used for the French mobilisation.

When we got in there were already about 300 BEF stragglers who had rolled up on their own with no officers as yet.

We took possession of the grandstand which had a range and wash place. There was a nice veranda to mess under. We had some grub at about 3pm.

We heard that there had been an orderly retreat and the Germans were reported checked, a French force with plenty of guns having at last come up. The Germans are said to be about 10 to 12 miles away, so perhaps there was a good reason for our hurry.

Instructions were received for our CO to take over as Camp commandant. There was a constant stream of stragglers coming in, in parties of one or two up to 30 or 40 at a time, mostly under NCOs, only about half a dozen officers. Each party was quite sure they were the only survivors of their Battalion, and while they were telling us that, perhaps another party of the same Battalion rolled up. They were in rather a state. Most of them, or quite half, had no arms or equipment of any sort. All were footsore, and some had slight wounds. How they found their way was a bit of a mystery, but I suppose they had only to trek outh with the refugees who swarmed on the roads and they would fetch up somewhere. For all I knew the authorities may have had pickets out along the route sending them on to this collecting point.

Lt Col Kennedy and 2 officers of No7 FA came in during the morning. They were all that was left of their push as far as they knew. They had only one QS wagon left of their transport, and the only item it contained was a case of whiskey. I also saw Lts Adams and Sparks: one of the old GH residents and I heard that Evan Davies had been either killed or wounded or captured.

Captain G C Browne with 'A' Section 19 FA turned up next. He had seen nothing of B and C Sections, that is, the rest of his unit which had entrained before us at Rouen. His A Section was complete and was at the station with Preston and not coming to our camp. A letter from General French came round saying the troops had done all that was expected of them. There are rumours that the Russians are doing well.

Some of us had a quick run into the town and had a very good dinner at a cafe although most of the place was empty of civilians. Talked to an RFC officer who was ferrying planes out from home, also an MT officer who had charged the Germans with fire lorries when surrounded, and got away with it.

The town is a nice place, and there is a very fine old palace in which GHQ are quartered.

Turned in on the grass, a fine hot day. The camp guard was mounted by the Camerons.

Stragglers kept coming in all night, and by morning we had about 3000 in the camp and we were ordered to medically inspect them and dress any needing it. We rigged up an operating tent, collected the various units together as far as possible and had a foot inspection. It was rather a comic sight to see long rows of men sitting on the ground taking off their boots and socks. Then we walked down the lines and sorted out those who needed dressing, and it was the majority. Some of them were in a bad state. Lots of the socks had to be cut off. The Army socks shrink and get as hard as a board. There were very few men who didn't have some sort of a sore. They had been cutting their boots to pieces to ease their feet, and dust and grit had got in and made things worse.

After this the men filed through the operating tents, and after washing, their feet were dressed. We soon used up all our powder, and I was sent off into town to buy up all I could. I managed to get several pounds of dusting powder and everyone had some sort of attention. These men didn't seem at all down hearted as to be worrying about things. A lot of them were soon playing football after they had had their dinner: the provision of this was also a job for us.

We had the sanitation of the camp also to see to, the French as usual had left the place in an awful state 'anywhere would do', so we all had a busy time and justified our existence for once.

A quick dash into the town for dinner in the same cafe. There were many fewer oddments about. One very lost, very young subaltern staggered into the cafe wearing a pair of carpet slippers: he couldn't get into his boots. He hadn't the slightest idea where his unit was and was looking for someone to report to.

On the way back I called at the palace to get some money from the field cashier, who had an office there. I had to go through several very magnificent large room to find him. We are allowed to draw up to £5 at a time, that is, about 125 Francs.

Turned in on the grass in the same place as last night very tired indeed. Most of the others had mucked in at the grandstand for their meal. They didn't like to spend anything on a decent meal, but as a great treat they had some butter. Our officers messing arrangements are rotten: the servants are incompetent and dirty, and I shall get a meal out whenever opportunity offers.

I slept very soundly. When I awoke I found that the camp had been cleared of stragglers, beginning at 12.30am. Everyone else had had a rotten night, but I had slept through all the noise. There was nothing for us to do anyhow, this was regimental business. All the men had been marched off to the station and sent off somewhere. We had orders to leave at 6am for the south, destination unknown, so the reported check could not have amounted to much.

We marched through the town. There were no other units with us and the town was quite empty. We then entered the celebrated forest of Compeigne, on the way passing a race course and a golf course. They seem to be quite a sporting lot around here.

The woods are very extensive, and the roads mostly in straight lines with fine trees right up to the edge. We have left the pave behind some time ago. There is now a nice turf ride for the horses at the side of the road. The continuous forest mile after mile gets a bit monotonous, but is nice and shady, which is a great advantage in this blazing hot weather.

After marching about seven miles we were overtaken by a dispatch rider with orders for us to return to Compeigne. We were all very bucked with this news, and marched back again to our field and grandstand, and took up our old quarters. Everything was very quiet. I had some food in the town. A few more stragglers turned up.

We were just settling down for the night thinking that things would go better now and that we were all set for a move in the right direction when orders came for us to move at 5am south to Dammartin, and we were very fed up about it. If we hadn't already done between 16 and 29 miles today, I think we should have been sent off at once. However, I had done some washing today, and had a bath in a canvas one.

Guns very clearly heard today - said to be 8 to 10 miles away.

Left at 5.15am for a forced march of, it is said, about 30 miles. My horse has not properly recovered from his sore back, but he had to carry me for some of the way. I managed this by committing the dreadful crime of cutting my saddle blanket and folding it to clear the tender spot. I rode short spells, for the first 20 miles.

Our route was through Gilocourt, Crepy-en-Valois and Nauteuil, Dammartin, not, I think the most direct route, but no doubt there were columns on the other roads. We are again marching by ourselves, which is a great advantage, as there are no irritating checks to the transport, and no sick of other units to worry about.

It was very pleasant at first in the early morning, going through the forest. We did good time for the first 10 miles, while it was shady. Soon it became very hot, quite the hottest day yet, and more dust than ever if possible. The sweat simply ran off everyone in streams. We were all wearing the same weight clothes we should be wearing in winter, outside, anyhow. Our men are lucky in not having rifles and ammunition to carry. The stretchers are carried on the transport when on the march. When any motor vehicles went past it made you feel murderous.

The CO wanted to break the back of the journey before halting for dinner, bully and biscuits, and we went on with only ten minute halts until 3pm, that is, ten hours without a real break in the hottest part of the day. I think the CO had orders to put as many miles behind us as quickly as possible because the Germans might be nearer than was thought when we were sent back to Compiègne, or they might have Uhlan patrols out, which could cut us off. One armed man could have taken the whole lot prisoner, as such arms as we had were only to be used for the protection of our wounded from ill treatment, according to the Geneva Convention.

We halted at the side of a thick wood, got the horses unharnessed down to the bridle and took them into the wood for shade. So far they seemed very fit. I spent my time supervising this, and then had dinner. The others had just given their horses to their batmen and started in at once on the bully and biscuits. After dinner I slept for an hour and then it was time to start again.

From now on I had to footslog, but I was quite fit and had no excuse to ride on a wagon. In any case, it would be a very bad example to the men, and our buses were already as full as they could hold. We were not strict enough in making those march who could. A lot of them were skrimshankers. We reached Dammartin at last. The last hill up to the town was too much for the horses, and we had many halts. Two pairs gave out altogether, that is, one in each pair, and we had to change them. Then we found we had to get up a steep rise onto the top of a small round hill like an old fortification here there was just room for the horses and transport. Here any men who had a push left in them had to help the horses by shoving behind and on drag ropes.

Both men and horses were absolutely done in. In my opinion there didn't seem to be any reason why we shouldn't have had at least a six hour halt and come on in the cool of the evening. But I wasn't CO, and perhaps he was afraid the Germans were too near and that we should get mixed up with other retreating columns if we waited too long. GHQ was in town, so the enemy couldn't have been very close.

The 1st Battalion Camerons are just above us. They had come by train, but not from Compeigne, as GHQ had left before we got back to the place. They always seem to travel by train. They had several German prisoners in their charge.

Water was scarce, and very little could be spared for washing. Just below us there was a small private house. We borrowed their kitchen and had some grub on their veranda, after which we were not long in getting into our valises on the grass.

Breakfast at the same house. The people were very ready to oblige us and provided vin ordinaire. Afterwards I went up to the Cameron bivouacs to have a look at the German prisoners. They looked pretty miserable. One of them was wounded, so I attended to him. I couldn't find out what they belonged to, but they were wearing very well made cavalry boots.

No orders this morning about what we are going to do. A 'Petit Parisien' bought in the town gives an account of the Mons, Landrecies and Le Cateau fighting.

This town is a dirty little hole, and GHQ have a beastly billet compared to their usual way of doing things.

We are now within about 25 miles of Paris and within the first line of fortifications. Watched a regiment of French cavalry going out patrolling. I am beginning to wonder whether we are going to spend the winter besieged in Paris, like it was in 1870.

Today I chose another servant, one Strudwick, a grocer's assistant in civil life and said to be a relative of the cricketer. He is going to do for Hull and myself, my ASC batman will just look after the horse. There is no establishment of RAMC servants, but it doesn't matter if they do their ordinary duty as well, and it means a bit of extra money for them.

From our mound we had a fine view of the country, and could see transport motors and troops four to five miles away by the dust they kicked up. We could hear guns quite loudly, and when it got dark could see the shell bursts and flashes of the guns to the north and left of us.

We thought we shouldn't be here long if we were going to stay with GHQ. We couldn't understand why we had to trail along with them and fetch up in the same place all the time, as there were really none of the Army troops that we were supposed to look after except the Camerons and some oddments. The others we supposed had been sent into action somewhere - the 19th Brigade had been sent to Mons. At any rate there was nothing for us to except trivialities while with GHQ. Possibly the authorities want to keep one complete FA for use later when they know the extent of the losses in the ones that have been in the fighting.

Sure enough we got orders to clear out again as soon as possible for Lagny. The horses could have done with a bit more rest. It was late in the day when we set out on a fine moonlit night and quite pleasant marching. We passed one of our aeroplane parks and were surprised at the number of planes we had got there. Must have been 30 to 40, but it was difficult to say by moonlight.

The motor lorries were as usual the biggest nuisance on the road. On one long uphill, about 50 lorries overtook us and then discovered they had taken the wrong road, so they all had to turn amongst us, causing much delay and bad language.

After this I rode along the buses one by one and turned out everybody in them, making them all walk up the hill or be left behind. Whether they could or couldn't, they all did however, and I wouldn't have let most of them get in again at the top of the hill if I had been backed up by one of the seniors. But they all don't seem to care a d--- if all the horses drop dead. They are the rottenest collection of horsemen you could imagine for people who are supposed to know something about it.

The CO is a good rider but has I expect too many other worries to find out whether men are fit to march or not, and the others wouldn't trouble themselves. The CO chaffed me the next day about the bad language which he must have heard when he saw me turning the blighters out. I was pretty wild at the time to think that a man had only to say he wasn't able to march and climb into a bus and go to sleep. There had been far too much of this thing since Le Cateau.

We got into Lagny about 2am after crossing the river Marne, and parked in a square in the town. This was the first time the CO didn't generally supervise the settling in to a place. He was quite done in and climbed into the first bus with Aldis and went to sleep, it was said by the scandalmongers with a bottle of medical comforts (brandy), but this was I think without foundation.

After messing about for a bit helping to get things straight - there were no billets and everyone had to doss down just anywhere - Hull and I opened a bottle of whiskey, a great treat. It had been given to me by Lord Jocelyn of the Northern Irish Horse a few days before; they ran a decent mess. We had a spot or so and tried to eat some biscuits, but as far as I could remember I think I went to sleep with a piece in my mouth.

Today's trek was only about 18 to 20 miles. Tonight we saw the Paris searchlights trying to pick up enemy planes.

There was no grub for breakfast except bully, so I found a small shop nearby and got the woman to make me an omelette and coffee. This went down extremely well, as I was extremely empty. Then I bought some huge peaches from a stall very cheaply: I suppose they had been unable to get them away to the Paris shops. Afterwards I watched the RE's mining the bridge we had come over.

There are more refugees here than we have seen so far; I suppose we have caught them up. There is a constant stream of vehicles of all sorts, a lot pulled by oxen, chiefly huge farm wagons pulled by two or three big farm horses. The family are on top on mattresses and straw, hen coops are slung about, mostly underneath. Loose animals are driven - cattle, sheep and goats. They seemed remarkably cheerful considering what it must have meant to them leaving their houses and farms, and what they were going through generally. Luckily the weather was just right for the game as far as humans were concerned, but not so good for the animals, being hot and dry.

Refugee owners of motor cars had by this time, for the most part, got well ahead. These parties of refugees were trekking under some sort of a system. Some person such as the village priest, or someone chosen by themselves, was in charge of a certain number, and decided where they should halt, and for how long and so on. They were not allowed to stay in a town on the route, but were all pushed on by the authorities.

At 11am we got orders about another move. GHQ had at last discovered that our men were the only ones of the remaining Army troops who were footslogging: all the rest had been travelling by troop trains. So this morning they had provided space in the last train to leave this place for our men. These were sent out under Biggam, Williamson and Aldis to Melun. The rest of us with the transport were given two days to do the distance in, not much to worry about after what we had done, as the whole distance was only about 25 miles. We had plenty of time to take it easy, and very glad we were, as it was very hot and dusty.

At one place where we crossed a lovely clear small river, like one of the chalk streams at home, the horses were unharnessed and ridden into the water. It was deep enough to make the drivers kneel on their backs. There was no difficulty in getting the horses in, but a good deal in getting them out, as they were enjoying it so thoroughly. I should have liked a swim myself, and don't really know why some of us didn't go in. I had not had a real all over wetting since leaving Aldershot. After trekking about 15 miles we found a nice village to stay the night in at Coubert. A nice clean field for the transport, our billets in a first rate medium sized country chateau just across the road, with a bathroom, for which there was a rush. I managed to get in third. No hot water of course, but I don't think I ever enjoyed a bath so much.

We each had a bedroom to ourselves. It was a very well furnished place, with a good billiard room, and must have belonged to someone with plenty of money. Some maids and the housekeeper were still there, and the governess returned late at night, having just seen the family off to England. They cooked our dinner and gave us some wine, which however was quite undrinkable, being like vinegar. No one could manage it, although some peaches we had were very fine.

After dinner we had a game of billiards with the CO, and then strolled into the village. There were a few British MT people about, but no other troops.

It was much to fine a night to sleep in a stuffy French bedroom, so I had my valise out on the lawn. Soon after leaving Lagny we heard some big explosions, said to be blowing up bridges, and probably including the one we had just come over on the Marne.

On the way we saw a lot of new trenches, and in some places French soldiers and civilians digging them. These trenches chiefly encircled small villages and farms.

Having only ten miles to do we thought we might have a slack day, and move in the evening. However, after breakfast the CO got a bit uneasy, and thought we ought to push off; he decided to at 9.30am. We were very sorry to leave such quarters, the best we had struck yet. They were robbers, though, and tried to charge us 8 Francs for the peaches, as well as other things including the wine we couldn't drink. I had a pillow as discount. At least the one I had borrowed from my bedroom to sleep out with in the garden somehow got rolled up in my valise. I expect it was only the servants on the make; I don't suppose the owners would have done it.

Another hot dusty trek, but only a short one of 10 miles brought us to Melun. We are now to the south-east of Paris on the Seine. There was not much to note on the way, and not such a continuous stream of refugees. They must have branched off somewhere.

On entering the town we saw the Northern Irish Horse on one side of the street and GHQ on the other side next to a French Red Cross hospital. We went on down the hill and parked the transport under the trees on the embankment of the river. Our billet was in a convent, and close by were some rooms which had been given us for the men. The nuns were still living in the place. After settling in and having some grub, Dillon and I walked along the river bank to some open air swimming baths on the river and had a good swim. The water was quite clean and warm. A good number of Tommies were bathing from the bank and from boats all the way along. There is still no official news of what is happening elsewhere.

After the morning doings, I went into the town to have a look around. The shops are shutting up, an d the place is full of the military. I saw several French motors with an antiaircraft gun mounted on them. For the first time I saw something of the French army more than the oddments seen previously. About 50 of their motor ambulances went by as we were sitting in the only cafe we could find open. We couldn't buy a paper or pick up any news.

We had another swim, and after getting back to the convent we heard that our FA (No20) was going to be split up. B and C Sections were going to join up with A Section of No19, the whole to be known as No19 FA. B and C Sections of No19 are still in the blue, and no one seems to know where they are. The new No19 FA, then a complete unit, is to be attached to the 19th Infantry Brigade, an independent brigade made up of Army troops and attached to the III Corps, which will then consist of the IV Division, just out, and the 19th Infantry Brigade.

The A Section of No19 FA with which we are to join up is said to be already with this Brigade which was in action at Mons. We are very pleased with this news as we are very tired of trekking on out own and hearing everything going on behind us. 'A' Section of No 20 FA is remaining with GHQ. After lunch I had another walk into the town to the station where I saw Captain Bill Adams RAMC Spec. Res. with the remnants of No 7 FA who were running an Aid Post at the station and having a lot of wounded through their hands. I had another swim, and went to the same cafe with Dillon. Next I was sent to the Northern Irish Horse quarters to inspect some stragglers. Afterwards I helped pay the men in Francs drawn from the Field Cashier. There was an issue of fresh meat today which was so tough that it was impossible to eat it - the cook's fault, mainly. Our messing arrangements are still rotten, and I think our food is worse than the men's. The padre bought a hammock and slung it between two trees in the garden. I slept on the grass; it rained a bit.

I had another swim this morning, so I am now reasonably clean. We left Melun with B and C Sections at 3.30pm: jolly glad to get away. The CO rode out with us a few miles until we were met by Major Davidson from GHQ who had orders where we were to proceed to. The CO shook hands and said he would try to get us all together again if he could. I don't think it will ever come off.

We are very pleased to get going at last in the right direction; we believe things are looking a bit better now. A French officer interpreter riding by shouted out 'Is not the news good?', and seemed very pleased about things. He couldn't tell us exactly what the good news was - something about some guns being captured and a real check to the Germans. We saw several enemy planes today, and one came down almost to tree top level top have a look at us.

Later on we met one we met one of our Cavalry Brigades going across country at intervals of about half a mile from west to east at right angles to our line of march. We didn't hear what they were up to. The V Dragoon Guards were amongst them. I saw a sergeant of this Regiment who was in the riding school in Aldershot when I was there in 1913.

We are to spend the night at Brie Comte Robert. At dusk we marched through the whole of the IV Division who were bivouacked all along the roadside. There was no one to give us any orders where to go, so we had to find a site, which was rather a job in the dark with the place full of troops. Eventually we parked on a dirty field close to a French motor ambulance convoy. We had a good look at them and wished we had some like them. Our old horse buses look very cumbersome, but a horse can do lots of things a motor can't.

Rather an bad night in an uncomfortable bivouac. Dillon had got some brandy, which was the only thing left in the village. We are to join up with our Brigade today, marching to a crossroads to wait for them to turn up. After about half an hour they came in sight, and a very weary footsore lot they looked. But the Battalions looked very well up to strength. No doubt they had recently had some drafts as they had already been in action, and apart from that must have lost a certain number from other causes during the retreat. They looked very unwashed and unshaven, and their uniforms were covered with dust. However, they managed to raise a few jests with our men who were waiting to fall in behind the column, such as 'don't they look nice and clean', as they should have done after a rest at Melun.

The 19th Brigade consists of:-

1st Battalion Middlesex Regiment

2nd Battalion Royal Welch Fusiliers

1st Battalion Scottish Rifles, The Cameronians

2nd Battalion Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders

ASC 16 Wagons of Ammunition Column

ASC Supply Train

No19 Field Ambulance

The A Section of No19 (original FA) was marching in rear of the column with Captain CG Browne, Lieutenant Preston and Padre Webb-Peploe. We fell in behind and followed on. We soon found it was very different marching behind a long column on our own. At the tail of a Brigade the checks are tiring and annoying. They are short halts mostly, but a slight check at the head of the column gets longer as it is passed back, until the horses are halted, and next minute almost trotting to keep up.

We went through Chevry, Pont Carré, Fevriers, Jossigny and Villeneuve le Comte. There was some heavy firing going on not far away. We were told it was the I Corps engaged near Rozay. We are to expect the enemy any time now and be ready for anything that may turn up. At dusk we had quite a decent clean field to bivouac in with plenty of corn just cut to lie on. As soon as we were settled down Hull lanced a gumboil for me; the beastly thing had been worrying me for about a week. We got some apples from a deserted smallholding and found our men chasing the hens and trying to get one for their supper. I think they did get one. The district seems to be fairly well denuded of civilians.

There were a good number of sick rolling up from the Brigade to attend to, and the job of evacuating those that need it is a difficult one. They have to be got to a refilling point, that is the place where the motor lorries come to with supplies which are then transferred to the horse drawn GS wagons of the Brigade train and distributed to the various units. When on the move the refilling point varies of course from day to day so that the returning empty train wagons have to take them back. The horse buses of the FA could not do it as they would never catch up again if sent a long way back. Any other returning transport is also used for this.

There are very heavy dews at night now. This morning my valise was really too wet to roll up. It was some time with all these things to see to before we could settle down for the night. We expect our Brigade may have to go into action anytime. Rode my horse again today. There is no doubt now the Germans have been checked.

Up at 5am. Heavy firing in the direction of Crecy at daybreak, lasting until about 8am just about as we were moving off. Our route today was Pic le Gibet, Bailly, Romanvilliers. We expect to get into it today. The march was very slow and dusty, and we went over some very bad country roads.

At about 5pm I was sent on with the quartermaster to see about where we were to bivouac on arrival at our stopping place. It was quite a long job getting to the head of the column in the narrow lane, and the dust kicked up by our horses caused a good deal of cursing in the ranks as we pushed by. On getting to the head of the column there was a long halt while the General appeared to be waiting for orders, or perhaps information from patrols. On talking to one of the Brigade staff officers I found it was quite uncertain where we should stop the night. I gave my horse a good feed of lucerne in a field adjoining while waiting about. The infantry just lay down in the road or anywhere, very tired and dusty.

In about an hour we moved on. I stayed in front and met some of the officers of the Brigade for the first time. I quite enjoyed riding in front and seeing what was going on. Soon we began to see signs that a large force had bivouacked alongside the road. Some might have been our own troops, but nobody seems to think there are any of ours ahead of us. Anyhow they were chiefly German, easily distinguished by their fireplaces. They are very careful to dig a hole in sheltered places in such a way that the fire cannot be seen from the front towards the enemy, and the glow from it for a very short distance only. Their camping grounds are also very untidy and look as though they had left in a hurry. There were dozens of dead horses lying about, also lances and odd German equipment.

At dusk the head of the column arrived at La Haute Maison where we are to bivouac. I was shown our part of the field by Jack (surname), staff Captain of the Brigade. It was a stubble field on a slope, and the Argyll and Sutherlands were just above us. By the time the FA turned up it was quite dark.

While waiting for the FA to turn up I heard close rifle fire for the first time, lasting about half an hour. It seemed to be about half a mile to our left front. This was probably the IV Division again, to which we seem to be acting as a reserve, or it might be from our own advance guard. We were not called upon to do anything about it. The Brigadier, General Gordon, dossed down under a rick of corn close to us in our field. I cannot find out what is happening exactly, except that the Germans are retreating, but that is good enough to go on with.

I slept on a stretcher, no valises out now. There is no water for washing, and the horses have to go back into the village to water. This is a long job, as there are only two wells and a lot of Brigade transport wanting the water.

Up at 3am; firing again to the north and left of us. We expected to move at once, but waited some hours before doing so. Saw aeroplanes of both sides today. Orders to follow on behind the Brigade. The slowest march yet, halts of an hour at a time, very annoying. The firing is continuous, and we heard it was our guns shelling the Germans as they were crossing the Marne.

We seem to have left the IV Division and are going on towards the river on our own. At last we came out of some woods on a hill overlooking the Marne. The river itself was hidden by a low hill, but we could see our shells bursting on the far side, and in the far distance some Germans making off as hard as they could. The road we were on seemed to lead straight down hill then up a short rise and down to the river.

We were shelled going down this road by the German guns on the opposite side of the river. The Middlesex were the ones to catch it and had 20 casualties. We had a halt on the hill while two Battalions disappeared to take up positions or do something I don't know what. The FA then went down the hill to Signy Signets, a collection of a few houses at the bottom of the hill. I was sent out to find Brigade HQ to get some orders if possible, as our CO, now Major Biggam, was fussed as to what to do. I found the HQ in a field opposite and stood for about an hour by the general, having been told to stay until there was some instruction and they knew what they were going to do with us, that is, the whole Brigade, as to whether we are going to advance any more at present or not. Apparently there is not much chance of an infantry engagement this side of the river to our front unless there are a lot of Germans still this side, though we might tickle them up a bit with rifle fire from this side if they have got across.

We could hear rifle fire and machine gun fire just in front but hidden by the rise in the ground from our two attached Battalions. Several of our batteries were in action round about, and some German shells were falling about a quarter of a mile away; nothing near us.

At 6.40pm I had orders to take back that the FA was to stay where we were for the night. The Brigade was not to move from present places yet. So we parked in a field at Signey Signets, and settled down for the night, not having had any further calls for stretcher parties. We seem to be getting a bit nearer to where things happen.

There are various rumours that the Germans are trapped and can't get across the river and other rumours that they are entrenched and don't want to get across. There was nothing official, but we had seen them making off on the other side.

Up at 5am. No orders. Soon some shrapnel began to fly over our bivouac, which is in a dip, and burst beyond, some within 50 yards and some away up the hill behind us as though they were trying to search the road again on which we had marched down. Quite a few in the field where the general was last night.

It is a queer sensation being under fire for the first time, although there was nothing dangerously near except perhaps large fragments of shells, but all the time there might be.

Major Rattray, the original CO of 19 FA, has not yet rejoined. He had been left in hospital at Rouen, having been kicked by a horse. Major Biggam was acting CO, much to his annoyance. He said he never wanted to serve in a FA, particularly as CO. He didn't like things much and was really a bit rattled, I think. He thought our transport was too close up, and sent me off to find Brigade HQ. We had not even been told where our Battalions had been moved to so that we could send bearers if wanted. I went into last night's field hut; there was no one there and the place was getting a bit hot. One burst very near and nearly frightened the life out of my horse. I tried round a bit but couldn't find them anywhere, so went back for further instructions. I then found orders had come for us to move onto a wood on the hill behind us, so we tacked off by a side lane. Our original road was being swept by gunfire now and then, and was quite exposed to view from the other side.

After getting under cover, Williamson and I went back to the corner of the wood and watched the shelling. Our batteries were making things a bit hot on the other side of the river. Two farms in particular were catching it, and in the far distance we could see something (with field glasses of course) moving off to the north like a column of troops. In about an hour the General sent up for two bearer sub-divisions. Williamson and I took ours. We were told to stand by behind the infantry in case of need, so we put the men in a ditch, and contrary to our expectations had a very slack afternoon, not being called on. 'A' Section, further to our left collected six wounded from the gunners. Hull amputated an arm by the side of the road.

The afternoon was quiet as far as enemy shelling was concerned. Our guns kept banging away, but after midday there was no reply from theirs. A little rifle fire could be heard, but not near us. A bit later the Middlesex came back and mustered in front of us and then lay down. I saw Dillon who had been detached from us to become RMO to the Middlesex, vice Maconachie wounded. It doesn't look as though our Brigade has much to do. The RWFs have gone off somewhere to the right, and it may have been them we heard in action. The Argyll and Sutherland are in a wood behind us, so there can't be any Germans between us and the river just here. One of our aeroplanes came down quite low in a strong wind and dropped a message for Brigade HQ. It didn't look a very easy job.

At dusk we had orders to rejoin the FA which was going to move on to cross the river at La Ferté with the Brigade where a pontoon bridge has been thrown across with great difficulty under fire. We expect to cross during the night. The Germans seem to be fairly on the run and only fighting a rearguard action on the Marne. However, it doesn't need a large force to make passage of a river very difficult.

Leaving Signy Signels at 9pm we marched to Jouarre, a place just above La Ferté, showing no lights, where after a wait of three hours we were turned into a field. After some bully and biscuits I lay down on the grass by the wagons close to where all our men were lying. Everyone is fairly tired, and could sleep in any position. Soon I was awakened by someone stumbling over me and kicking me in the ribs. I found all our men getting up and running in one direction across the field. After about a hundred yards they all stopped and came back wondering what they were doing. It was a sort of stampede; no one had any reason for it and they just lay down and went to sleep again. There had been a loose horse galloping about the field a bit before which had caused some excitement. Someone must have thought it was coming again and sent everyone off, but it was a strange sort of mass movement. I didn't want to be trampled on again, so got into a bus. Didn't get any rest, though, as we were told to be ready to move at 12.30am. We got ready, but didn't move until 4am, down into the town of La Ferté with many halts. A lot of houses were badly knocked about by shell fire. We passed some smashed German transport wagons.

At 5am during a long halt we knocked up some people at a house and got them to make us some coffee; they also gave us some peaches. They were very excited at seeing the last of the Germans, who had not long left. Some of them had been billeted in the house and had not behaved too well.

While waiting, I was asked to see an old woman in what I think was a small hospital or home of some sort. She was too ill to do anything for. We moved on down and got in sight of the river at last. Some dead men in the ditches at the side of the road. Seaforth Highlanders. Again we had to wait while several brigades of our guns went over the bridge and also a regiment of French cavalry.

The pontoon bridge didn't look too strong. It was made with RE bridging pontoons (needless the road bridge had been blown up) but there were not enough to span the river, and some oddments of civilian boats had to be used as well. After all that had gone over it already we had another wait while it was strengthened, and even then is sagged a good deal as our heavy GS wagons went over one by one. The ordinary bridges had all been blown up, and there was nowhere else to cross anywhere near. Here we saw the results of the shelling of the town by both sides. Many of the houses were complete ruins, and all showed rifle bullet and shrapnel holes.

There was some firing on the ridge above us while we were at the river, and two bearer sub-divisions were sent for. With B and C Sections I went on ahead of the FA up a long hill to a village where we were to get orders.

The village was a complete wreck. All the belongings in the houses had been turned out and upside down and scattered about the road. Drawers of linen and clothes lying about having been looted for anything worth taking away. Nothing happened, however. The Germans were too busy retreating to stop and fight here.

It was said that an opportunity of bagging a lot of them was missed this morning. A German column and one of ours were marching on parallel roads for a time, four or five miles apart, and our people thought they were one of our columns until it was too late to scupper them.

We had orders to move on, and all day we marched in the tracks of the beaten German army. Trenches everywhere, unused ammunition, cartloads of shells, clothing and all sorts of equipment and a most remarkable number of empty wine bottles, literally thousands of them. Many dead horses, also cattle, some of which had been roughly roasted whole in a ditch. There were many broken down civilian vehicles. The inhabitants of La Ferte told us the Germans had bagged all the vehicles they could find to carry their wounded, of whom they were said to have a great number.

In retreating they had not stuck to the road. Their column was too wide and probably disorderly. Everything was trampled down for twenty to thirty yards on each side of the road. In addition to everything else there were a large number of civilian bicycles discarded as soon as the tyres or something gave out.

Our route at first ran along the hills on the north bank of the river roughly parallel to the one we had travelled along on the other side last night.

I was sent off to a chateau about a quarter of a mile from the road to see some German wounded who had been left behind. There were about fifty of them in the house lying in the beds with their boots and all their clothes on, and some on the floors. There was only one nursing orderly with them. Some of them were in a serious condition, and said they had been there without any attention at all for 36 hours. This was contrary to the Geneva Convention already mentioned which accounted for so many of our MOs being captured at the beginning of the retreat. Amongst the wounded was one of our own men. We took him, but couldn't take the others or do very much for them being on the move, and we had to leave them to be dealt with by the French authorities and clearing up formations which would no doubt be following up immediately.

Some cavalry, mostly French, was searching the countryside: we saw them potting at someone. There were also several parties of prisoners of war. They were digging them out of the farms and hiding places all along the route. One party of about 25 looked particularly happy and pleased to be safe though prisoners.

It turns out that one of our Battalions, the RWF, had been in action last night near the bridge at La Ferté, so that is where they disappeared to. Sproule their MO had several casualties, but as they had been detached from the Brigade we did not collect from them. At dusk we arrived at Certigny where we stayed the night. The Brigade were in a field close by; they had not been engaged today.

On the march we saw the remains of a barn where 150 of the enemy had been killed by one of our lyddite shells. I think the number was exaggerated, but they were busy burying them as we went by.

The going today was very heavy; it had been raining most of the day and the roads were very cut up.

Off again early. We appear to be acting as a reserve, at any rate we are not near the guns which can be heard in the distance. The roads get worse. In one place we had to sent the transport in a round about way and took the men across country. Still much the same signs of a retreat to be seen in the way of shell dumps etcetera.

It rained hard most of the day. We had to wait at some crossroads while what seemed like the whole of the IV Division went by. It took hours.

Arrived at Maury, where we stayed the night in a barn. It was pitch dark when we got there. The barn was a very big one, with room for us, all the men, and the riders tied up at one end of it. There was plenty of straw for everyone. The cooks foraged round and found a lot of vegetables growing in a garden near, and we had an excellent bully stew which we were quite ready for.

Major Rattray joined up tonight and took command. He was in hospital at Havre when the port was evacuated towards the end of the retreat.

On the move again early, much rain and mud. Terrific firing all along a wooded ridge on our left. The march was very slow; many troops and much transport on the road. Still the same entrenchments, dead horses and broken German lances on the road. Our horses got very done up, mine went dead lame. He had been recently shod. I thought he had been pricked, so had the shoe off again.

We picked up a wounded German in one village. They must have evacuated their wounded wonderfully well. We saw numbers of graves, some just trenches being filled in. It was said a great number had been buried all along the route by the time we got up, either by their own people or the civilians. There were not many of these to be seen. We are to stay the night at Busancy, a small village up a steep hill , which nearly finished the horses.

We arrived there with no billets available except one small school. The horses had to stand in the pouring rain all night harnessed up. It was a beastly night - pitch dark when we got in. There was just room in a small bedroom for our valises to be unrolled, but we were glad to be under a roof of any sort. The men had to sleep on top of each other almost to get into the schoolroom.

We hear the Germans are again between us and a river, the Aisne, and we are hoping to get up before they can cross.

Wet again this morning. Everything wet through, but we are cheerful enough at the idea of the Germans being chased instead of them chasing us.

I got Sergeant Barnfield, a hair dresser in civil life, to cut my hair in the school yard where we had stayed. He is one of the Terriers from South Wales and a very good chap. Several officers of the Brigade, seeing what was happening lined up for the same attention. Barnfield did pretty well with the tips given. There were a lot of sick from the Brigade this morning, some needing evacuation.

A church parade taken by Webb-Peploe was cut short by orders to move at once. There was heavy fighting going close ahead.

After a few miles we arrived at Septmonts, a dirty straggling village, a small place of about two streets, but very prettily situated under a line of hills. The country round here is very fine: hilly, well wooded and with fine views. We went through the village, passing on the way two FAs halted on the road, and up a steep winding hill at the back, where we halted under the lee of a big farm, looking back down onto the village. Pavilion Farm was occupied by Divisional HQ, IV Division.

We hear the Germans are again between us and a river, this time the Aisne, and we hope to get up before they get across. We were told we had come up too soon, and should have waited below.

This Pavilion Farm is situated on the South side of a large plateau, and on walking over this a quarter of a mile or so we got a very fine view over the valley of the Aisne and saw the bombardment going on. Some WWs from them were bursting close to a rick on which we had climbed to get a good view.

As far as one could see to the right and left, which was a good many miles, there were batteries in action.

No official news, but various rumours pointing to the fact that the Germans had got across the river without being cut off, and also that they had not been able to prevent our people getting a footing on the far bank over a partly broken down bridge; every other bridge had been destroyed.

It was apparently quite certain that some of our army had got across in the rain and darkness last night, but everyone is very disappointed at not bagging a lot of the enemy between the two rivers.

As soon as it got dark the firing stopped. They won't give away their gun emplacements by firing at night, as the flash gives a very fair idea of the position of the batteries.

Returned to the FA on the road below the farm. Our Brigade is lying about on the lee side of the plateau. We heard we are going to move on sometime during the night, we supposed, across the river. Had a fire made in the ditch and a bully stew which went down very well. Afterwards had another walk onto the plateau. As far as one could see there were blazing farms, villages and stacks, and one big glare right away to the left which we thought might be Compiègne.

I lay down on a stretcher, with no idea when we should start.

We turned out at 1.30am and got on the move in rear of the ammunition column over the plateau and down some vile twisting lanes. The ammo column took a wrong turn in the pitch darkness, and all the wagons had to turn round in a narrow lane, a lengthy business. We went through the village of Billy, and a bit further on turned to the right on a very decent road for about half a mile. Here we were told to turn into a field on our right and take up a position alongside a hedge. The ammo column was also put into the field, behind the hedge lining the road to the right of the gate.

We thought we must be fairly near the river and wondered why we had not gone on and across. It was still very dark, quite foggy, and strangely quiet.

We had orders to make ourselves as inconspicuous as possible. The hedge did not by any means give complete cover from the river side so we set about cutting branches from the wood on our right adjoining field, thickening the hedge. We also put some Xmas decorations on the buses, which with their white painted tilts are very conspicuous. By this time it was beginning to get light. The CO, who had gone off to Brigade HQ, turned up and said we were to wait where we were for orders. He also cursed at our decorations, which we had to remove as it is against the Geneva Convention to hide an ambulance wagon by artificial means. For all that we were told to be most careful not to show ourselves, we had no idea what was going to happen next, except that we were not going to cross the river yet.

We waited anxiously for daylight and for the thick mist to clear so that we could see what sort of place we were in; when it was fully daylight the visibility wasn't more than one to two hundred yards. The mist soon cleared and we saw that our hedge faced the hills on the opposite side of the river.

The river not visible from here was a good distance away across some flat low lying ground. To our right front was a big wood (Venizel Wood), with woods to our right and behind us. We were absolutely exposed, except for the thin hedge, to the German batteries which were